


The Rent Boy

by tresa_cho



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: help_haiti, Dragons, M/M, War Era, bratty bottoms, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-19
Updated: 2011-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-17 02:58:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tresa_cho/pseuds/tresa_cho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy requests Charlie's help with a mission from Dumbledore. Sounds easy enough, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bloodyrose82](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bloodyrose82).



> Originally written for bloodyrose82 for the help_haiti auction.
> 
> 09/19/11: [Now available for Spanish readers.](http://m-xanath.livejournal.com/tag/autor:%20tresa_cho)

“I need a dragon.”

Charlie stared at the scrawny punk standing defiantly before him. “This is no petting zoo, kid,” Charlie growled. “Here there be monsters.”

The kid's thin lips pressed together in a petulant frown. His platinum blonde hair stuck up in all directions, as if he had slept on his broom stick during the ride over. When Charlie thought about it, he probably had. London was a good flight from Romania and the kid had dragged him from a pleasant slumber, which meant he had been flying all night.

“I don't intend to pet it,” the kid growled.

“And what precisely do you intend to do?” Charlie asked gruffly.

“Dumbledore didn't contact you?” the kid asked. Charlie shook his head. The kid launched into a tirade. “This is completely ridiculous. I volunteer to risk my neck for this pitiful excuse of an army and the leader can't even lower himself to make sure I get what I need. Is that any way to run a resistance? I don't think so. It's as if he wants his side to go down in a blazing fireball of gore and screams-”

“Dumbledore sent you?” Charlie cut him off, slightly amused. The kid's cheeks were pink as he snorted.

“You seem a bit slow. Is there someone else I could talk to?” The lips pulled into a sneer. Oh. So that's how it was going to be, then.

“No. I'm in charge here. How do I know Dumbledore sent you?”

The kid rolled his eyes. They were the most disturbing slate-grey colour. “Your name is Charles Weasley. Second oldest of quite a brood. Bill married Fleur, you have a kid brother Ronald who smuggled a Ridgeback out of Hogwarts into your care during our second year-”

“You know Ron?” Charlie broke in again. The eyes turned to him, flashing irritation at the constant interruptions.

“Unfortunately,” the kid growled. Charlie cocked an eyebrow. “I'm a Malfoy,” the kid clarified. “I do not appreciate being associated with such riff-raff.”

Charlie couldn't help it. He busted out laughing, right in the poor kid's face. He laughed harder as the kid's ears went pink. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You just said it so seriously,” Charlie gasped between guffaws. The kid stood, arms clenched tightly over his chest as he waited for Charlie to control himself. “Okay.” Charlie straightened, resting a hand on his abs. “Go on.”

'Malfoy' was glaring at him to kill. “I need a dragon,” he said again.

“And I'm fair certain I implied that you could bugger off,” Charlie said.

“Dumbledore sent me,” Malfoy growled. “I'm running an errand for His Royal Highness of the Purple Socks.”

“What could you possibly need a dragon for?” Charlie scoffed.

“I'm going to ride it,” Malfoy snapped.

Charlie doubled over, laughing so hard he lost his balance. He dropped to his knees so that he didn't face-plant the ground and gasped for breath His ribs ached, and his display was attracting attention from his mates. They were staggering from their tents in various states of undress.

“The hell is this, Charlie?” one grumbled, approaching them. “Who's the kid?”

“I'm not a kid. I'm a Malfoy,” he snarled.

“Oh, is that right, now?” the man shot back with a heavy Irish brogue. “An' just 'ow did ya come to be here, Mister Malfoy?”

“I'm here to speak with Weasley,” Malfoy said sharply. “ I don't have business with anyone else.”

“Oh,” the Irishman breathed, arching an eyebrow. “One of those meetings. I gotcha, I gotcha. Okay lads.” He turned and started herding the bystanders back to their tents. “Let's let Charlie 'ave 'is fun then, shall we?”

The kid's mouth was open in shock. Charlie took pity on him and clapped a hand to the back of his neck. “Come on, before my boss sees you,” he said as he guided the shell-shocked kid to his tent.

“They... They think I'm a rent boy!?” the kid finally shrieked, once they were in the confines of Charlie's tent.

Charlie sat down on his cot and rested his elbows on his knees. “Well, you come here dressed like that, what do you want them to think?”

Malfoy slapped his hands on his hips. “What is wrong with how I am dressed?”

Charlie regarded the kid with an amused expression. He was wearing something that looked like it was right out of a torrid romance novel. A floaty, puffy, sheer white blouse that laced up the wide, sloping collar. The sleeves were cuffed by leather armlets that reached Malfoy's elbows. He was wearing hide breeches, but they looked too expensive to be practical, especially when he saw the boots the kid was wearing. He let his eyes drift back up to Malfoy's face, and grimaced. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Forgive me if I want to appear presentable,” he snapped. “For the last time: I need a dragon. If you don't help me I'll go get my own.”

“You'd die before even setting foot in the reserve proper,” Charlie warned. “We have measures in place.”

“Then you must help me. Don't you all worship Dumbledore or some such?” Malfoy hissed.

“Dumbledore usually sends ahead if he needs my help,” Charlie said evenly. Malfoy closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“We keep going around in circles. How can I convince you?” he asked wearily.

“I can put you under Truth Serum,” Charlie offered. Malfoy cast him a withering glare.

“Do you really think that if I were a spy I'd have argued with you this long? Malfoy sneered. “I'd have Imperius'd you long ago, as soon as you proved too stubborn to be of use. I'm being polite, by the way. I really hate doing things the hard way, and you are making this the hard way. I don't know how much more my fragile temperament can take.”

“You really have a high opinion of yourself,” Charlie said casually.

“Don't you?” Malfoy countered. “I'm worthy of high opinions. I demand them.” Charlie chuckled.

“All right. I'll put you on a dragon. But only because I will laugh clear into next century at the sight of you getting tossed, you obnoxious twat,” Charlie said, standing. “Do you know anything about dragons at all?”

“They live in mountains and don't make good pets,” Malfoy growled wryly. “Do you think I'd ride a dragon without knowing precisely how many ways it can kill me?”

“Book learning is very different than practical application,” Charlie said. Malfoy sighed in exasperation.

“Okay, just point me to the nearest Welsh Green and I'll be out of your ridiculous red hair,” he said sharply.

“You're going to get yourself killed,” Charlie pointed out.

“Well, then you'll have tasty meat for your Ridgebacks,” Malfoy shot back. “Win-win for us. I get to see a bloody dragon, and you get a delicacy to feed them. I hate to pressure you, but I'm on a bit of a schedule.” The sarcastic edge could have cut flesh. Charlie stood and grabbed a pair of slacks.

“You're not endearing yourself to me,” he said. “You have a terrible way of asking for favours.” He shimmied into the trousers.

“The fate of the free wizarding world hangs in the balance and you criticise me for my manners.”

“Don't be so melodramatic,” Charlie chuckled lightly. He exited the tent and Malfoy followed.

Charlie couldn't believe he was actually playing along with this kid. If he died, Charlie would have hell to pay. But if Dumbledore really had sent him, Charlie was obligated to help. He had a hard time believing Dumbledore would send a kid to try and ride a dragon. But this was also the man who was pitting a child up against the darkest wizard in a century. Dragon riding was not outside Dumbledore's bag of tricks.

“I'm going to need your full cooperation for my mission. Which includes, but is not limited to, taking the dragon out of the reserve whenever I need to,” Malfoy went on as they walked.

“If you can ride a dragon, I will become your personal liaison,” Charlie laughed.

“Excellent. I'll need someone to shovel the crap,” Malfoy said. Charlie cleared the wards as they went. A few keepers paused what they were doing to sate are the odd pair. After a few paces they had gathered a crowd, which suited Charlie fine. There were a few Healers with them now.

“You really gonna put him up on one of em?” Charlie's friend hissed in his ear.

“Please. He'll run for his mum once he sees the Welsh we've got up on the north east ridge,” Charlie scoffed. “And if he doesn't, any bets on how far he'll toss him?”

“You're insane.”

“He says Dumbledore sent him,” Charlie said, shrugging. “If he did, I don't want to let the Old Man down.” He double checked that his wand was in its holster. “Either way we'll get a great show.”

“When you talk about someone, make sure it's figuratively behind the back, and not actually,” Malfoy shot at them, giving them both an evil glare. “Typical. You can't even insult someone properly. Is that him?” He jerked a finger towards the horizon.

The sun coming up cast an orangish hue on the magnificent beast before them. He was sleeping, curled around himself.

“That's a Welsh Green-” Charlie started.

“I know that. I may be easily duped but I am not a moron,” Malfoy snapped. For the first time since he had shown up, he looked slightly nervous. “For this to work I need all of you to be absolutely silent. Not a word. If you can hold your breath, that would be even better. And don't stop me. Even if I go down.” He started walking towards the beast. “Just let the damn thing eat me,” he muttered as he fell out of earshot.

“Good lord,” Eric gasped. “He's actually going to do it. We have to stop him!”

Charlie gripped his arm as he lurched forward. “If we all go charging in there now, we'll be putting him in more danger. Get the Mediwizards ready. I'm going after him.” Eric started pushing through the small crowd as Charlie took off at a slow trot after Malfoy.

He was too slow in his caution. The kid had magicked a rope and was already trussing up the sleeping dragon's legs. Charlie stepped forward and clamped down hard on Malfoy's arm, spinning him. “Just what the hell do you think you're doing?” he hissed under his breath.

Malfoy glared violently. “Get back,” he responded. “And do not let this beast hear any of you. I mean it. I'll kill you if you make a sound.”


	2. Chapter 2

Charlie let go, feeling a chill creep down his spine despite the mild temperature. He'd do it, Charlie realised with shock. That look...

Charlie crept back to a safe place where he could help if necessary. If Malfoy was going to perform the spell Charlie thought he would, he was going to need dead silence, and with such intricate magic a Silencing Spell would result in catastrophe. The spell being attempted was usually reserved for non-magical animal training. Dragons had powerful minds, though. It was too easy to get swept into the spell and lose one's sanity. Charlie watched with bated breath as the kid lashed the dragon's muzzle shut. He was obnoxious enough... On a young male Welsh Green he might just be able to pull it off...

The dragon woke as Malfoy yanked the rope too tight. He thrashed, but with his legs bound he couldn't go anywhere. He threw his head against a cliff wall, Malfoy still attached. Charlie's heart leapt into his throat as he heard the all too familiar sound of bones cracking. To his astonishment, the kid held on. He was yelling the words of the spell, and Charlie felt the air around him fizzle with magic. He was still too close. He scrambled up the rock face further, until the hair on his arms stopped sticking up and he could get a better vantage point. This was the same technique that had left his friend Kenny catatonic.

To their credit, Charlie's co-workers were holding their silence well. They must have assumed what the kid was trying. The spell let the caster link minds with the animal to familiarize the animal with his voice and commands. A non-magical animal was not terribly complex, which is why the spell was easy enough to learn. Non-magic animals had no innate magic that conflicted with the spell.

It was considerably more complicated with a dragon. Dragon magic tangled and snarled easily, latching on and tearing unsuspecting victims. Even seasoned handlers had trouble, which was part of what made dragons so dangerous. Then there was the hole teeth thing. And claws. And tail.

The dragon was beating at Malfoy with his tail now, trying to shake the annoyance from his face. Still Malfoy held on, his voice ringing against the stone walls of the mountainside. The dragon stopped flailing, settling to the ground though he was still shifting restlessly, his muscles tensing visibly under scaly hide. Keeping a firm grip on the ropes around the Green's muzzle, Malfoy carefully manoeuvred himself around the ears and, to Charlie's jaw-dropping amazement, plunked himself firmly atop the dragon's head, digging in with his legs so that he wouldn't get thrown.

He sat up straight. The rope holding the muzzle shut was wrapped all the way up to his elbows on both arms, and he used it to direct the head. He swivelled the great beast, and Charlie took a step back, right into a wall, as the Green's huge wings opened and swept air under them in preparation for flight. Malfoy cut the ropes around his legs with his wand, and the Green leapt into the air. Charlie was pressed to the wall by the force of the air being pushed aside, and watched as Malfoy took the dragon across the horizon. Behind his amazement, somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped the kid would bring the dragon back. He'd get skinned alive for this.

Charlie staggered back to his co-workers, who were all staring up into the sky, watching the kid spin the dragon into some very terrifying dives and turns.

“He actually did it,” Eric breathed in shock. “I can't believe it. What are we going to do?”

“I'll take care of it,” Charlie said roughly. The dragon was coming down again. Charlie followed its trail, running as it crept lower and closer to the ground. He had his wand out should he need it, and when the dragon touched down, he was there to catch the kid as he slipped from the dragon's head. Charlie quickly cut the ropes from the kid's arms and hauled him back from the furious beast. The Welsh Green stomped after him, and Charlie quickly ducked behind a boulder as his co-workers drove the dragon back.

“Come on, hand him over,” a voice murmured. Charlie helped the mediwizards get Malfoy into one of the nearby reinforced tents. They stretched him on a cot and Charlie grabbed a towel to wipe the kid's blood off his freckled arms. “Broken ribs, concussion, and mild head wound. He should be fine in a jiff,” Alon said, turning to Charlie. “Hand me that potion in the blue bottle, if you will.” Charlie flipped the bottle through the air and Alon caught it, starting his work immediately.

An interminable amount of time later, Alon turned to Charlie and grabbed the towel the handler was holding. He wiped his hands and scowled. “Your idiot kid's fine. He's gonna be feeling this for a while though. What's the plan?”

“Dumbledore sent him prepared. He knew what he was doing,” Charlie said, regarding the kid lying unconscious on the table behind Alon. “We have to let him do what he needs. If Dumbledore has a mission for him, we're obligated to help.” Alon scoffed at him.

“Speak for yourself. This is a child, _ach shelo_. I'll be damned if he gets near one of those beasties again.” Alon tossed the towel down with a bit more force than necessary.

“You know Dumbledore's mode of operation,” Charlie said. “He loves sending children into the battle.”

“He's lost it,” Alon grumbled, pulling his dark hair back into a pony tail. Alon was the chief medical officer on site. He ran the hospital tent and took on any cases the other mediwizards couldn't handle. He was from Israel, and from one of the best medical corps in the world. “He's completely lost it. Sending a kid to ride a dragon? What was he thinking?”

“Whatever it is, he knows better than us. We have to help Malfoy if he's going to have a chance of surviving whatever Dumbledore wants him to do,” Charlie said firmly. Alon frowned spectacularly. Charlie eyed him. Alon appeared to remain stubborn for a moment, but then sighed in exasperation.

“Fine. Fine. I'll talk to Miranda. She likes me better,” Alon said. Charlie grinned. “Take him out of here and get him cleaned up.” Alon pushed through the tent flaps and into the morning sunlight. Charlie carefully scooped Malfoy off the cot and exited after the mediwizard. The crowd had not left. They all stared at him and the boy in his arms. Charlie felt irrationally overprotective.

“Go on. Nothing to see here. You have jobs to do. Get doing them,” he snapped. The wizards and witches quickly scurried away, and Charlie brought Malfoy to his own tent. He laid the boy on his cot and started unlacing the leather bindings around his forearms. They were wet with blood and sweat.

Malfoy's hand snatched Charlie's wrist as he tugged on the ties. Surprised, Charlie glanced sharply at the kid. “Leave them,” Malfoy gasped, face taut with pain.

“They're covered in blood,” Charlie said slowly. Malfoy's hand shook around his wrist.

“ _Don't_... take them off...” Malfoy hissed. Charlie stared at him, and only when he let his fingers fall to the side did Malfoy's eyes roll up in the back of his head and he fell back against the pillow of the cot. Charlie shook his head in disbelief. But hey, if the kid was stubborn enough to pull himself out of a medically induced coma, who was he to argue with his wishes?

He took a wet rag and dragged it slowly over the kid's forehead and throat instead, clearing some of the blood and dirt that had crusted there. When he had finished all he was comfortable touching, he dropped the rag onto his trunk and moved to go through some paperwork. Yes, dragon handlers had paperwork to fill out. His shift didn't start for another few hours, and he was up. He may as well get something done.

“His name isn't Welshy.”

The sound jolted Charlie, used to the silence after nearly an hour. He twisted from where he sat on the ground to see Malfoy sitting up, adjusting his armlets.

“It really pisses him off when you call him that, by the way. He's going to eat someone one day if you keep it up. His name is Elhaearn. If you start calling him that he might stop wrecking the fences you put up over on the western ridge,” Malfoy said regally, as if he hadn't just busted six ribs. Charlie stared at him. Malfoy glared. “Did you hear me?”

“Y-Yes,” Charlie said, recovering his voice. He watched as Malfoy stood from the cot without wavering the slightest. Charlie didn't get a chance to say anything, however, as Miranda pushed back the flap to his tent, followed by Alon.

“Is this him?” Miranda asked without preamble. Malfoy scowled.

“Yes. I need that dragon,” Malfoy said icily. Miranda raised an eyebrow. Malfoy gave a long-suffering sigh. “Dumbledore sent me on a mission and I swear he told me he would tell you all before I got here. He apparently didn't but you're going to have to believe me. I bet this is some twisted test for me. This is something he would do, right?” He glanced at Charlie for help.

“Yes. This is definitely something Dumbledore would do. He's big on giving as little instruction as possible with his pet projects,” Charlie grumbled, casting his eyes to his boss. Miranda looked between Alon and Charlie. They all knew she had a history with Dumbledore. And not that sort of history. But she did trust him without question, which could work to the kid's advantage if he managed to keep his mouth shut for another five seconds. Charlie shot the kid a look that told him to keep his snark to himself. To his complete shock, Malfoy seemed to understand.

“Right. I'll get you whatever assistance you need,” Miranda said abruptly. Malfoy had the decency to look startled. “Well, what do you need, boy? Spit it out.”

“I need permission to take the dragon to and from the sanctuary at a moment's notice,” Malfoy said, putting his hands on his hips. Miranda nodded. “And Weasley agreed to be my stable boy.”

Miranda shot Charlie a glance. Charlie's jaw dropped. He had made the comment in jest. Surely Malfoy wasn't... serious...

“Done,” Miranda said, looking entirely too thrilled. Charlie swallowed his protest. “Have fun boys. If anything happens to my dragon I'll personally kill you both.” And with that she swept from the tent, Alon close on her heels.

“Well,” Charlie said stonily. “Did not see that one coming.”

“Hah! You are now my stable hand. Go feed my dragon,” Malfoy commanded. Charlie glared at him.

“Now see here, lad-” Charlie started. Malfoy gawked at him.

“You _promised_ ,” Malfoy gasped. “Don't tell me you're going back on your word. You're a Gryffindor!” Charlie clenched his hands into fists.

“What's that got to do with anything?” he burst out.

“Gryffindors are supposed to be upholders of truth and justice and all things goody-two-shoes. Honestly. It hasn't been that long since you were in school,” Malfoy said shortly. “Now go feed my dragon. Your boss said so. I'm going to have a lie down before I have another manly fainting spell.” He collapsed rather than sat on the cot, as if he had been holding himself up on will power alone. Charlie cast a worried glance at him, but Malfoy didn't say anything else and flopped down on the pillow.

When Charlie returned from feeding Welsh-er, Elhaearn, Malfoy was rolling on the cot, gasping for breath. Charlie darted to the cot. “Oi, Malfoy,” he hissed, grabbing Malfoy's shoulders. Malfoy's arm swung out and clocked him in the jaw. He rocked back, swearing, and righted himself swiftly. “ _Malfoy_!” he barked, grabbing harder.

The kid's eyes flew open and he choked on a whimper. Charlie's eyes narrowed in concern. Malfoy's hands twisted in Charlie's shirt, like he was trying to push him and pull him closer at the same time. He breathed harshly through his nose, and Charlie cautiously touched Malfoy's head with his hand. The kid's entire body was painfully taut.

“Hey,” Charlie breathed gently. “Hey. Relax. You were having a nightmare.”

Malfoy made a frustrated noise and shoved Charlie back. Charlie collapsed to the ground and grimaced.

“Ow,” he murmured, watching Malfoy carefully. The kid sat up, slicked his hair back and glowered at him. “I fed the dragon.”

“You're bleeding,” Malfoy pointed out. Charlie glanced down. Elhaearn had whipped him with his tail and yes, his arm was scraped up.

“Yes. That tends to happen when working with large, dangerous beasts,” Charlie said, picking at the wound absently.

“And you have a huge bruise on your jaw.”

“Yes. That one is courtesy of you, actually,” Charlie said. “You punched me. Do you routinely bite people trying to help you?”

“Yes,” Malfoy said snidely. He got up, grabbed his wand, and knelt down in front of Charlie. Malfoy grasped Charlie's jaw and turned the blossoming bruise toward him. He held up his wand, murmured a spell, and the stinging disappeared. Then, his fingers found Charlie's arm. Charlie reached out with his uninjured hand and closed his fingers around Malfoy's wrist.

“Thanks, but you don't have to worry about me,” Charlie said, slightly amused the kid had even healed his jaw. Malfoy glared up at him through blonde hair falling across his eyes.

“I wasn't going to heal it,” he drawled lazily. “I only clean up my own mess.” He twisted Charlie's arm to get a better look at the wound. He hummed low in his throat as he took in the damage. “Nice. If you had been any slower he would have gotten your whole arm.”

“I know.” Charlie reclaimed his arm and stood, moving to the wash basin to scrape the blood away. “How are you feeling?”

“Doesn't matter. I have to go.”

Charlie turned to see Malfoy slipping a robe over his bloodied outfit. “You can't be serious. You should rest. After that flight and those injuries you'll pass out before you even mount,” Charlie warned. Malfoy scowled at him.

“Don't tell me what I can and can't do,” he bit out harshly. “Who do you think you are?”

Charlie sighed. The kid's moods shifted quicker than a politician's stance on taxes. One moment he was almost kind, the next he looked ready to kill, almost like the dragons he worked with daily. Their mood swings were nothing short of incredible. He glanced back and the kid was gone.

Startled, he darted out of the ten. A flash of blonde disappeared around a corner, and Charlie trotted after it. “Malfoy,” he called urgently. The kid paused, turning. Charlie couldn't believe he was about to do this. “There's a soft spot just behind the jaw on each side of the dragon's head. If you dig in there with both hands you'll have almost perfect control,” Charlie said quickly. Malfoy's eyes narrowed.

“I'll be seeing you, then,” he said. Charlie shrugged helplessly. The kid vanished, and a few moments later Charlie saw a dragon take to the sky.


	3. Chapter 3

Charlie flipped through the newspaper a week later, shaking his head at the events he saw. Massive forest fires in Wales were causing untold problems for the Muggles. Plague had broken out in a suburb of London, one that was resistant to any Muggle medications. From the Daily Prophet he knew that the disease was the work of Dark Wizards. As was the explosion that had rocked Picadilly Circus two days ago, killing fifty innocents. Charlie's hands clenched into fists. This war had to stop.

The flaps to his tent ripped open and Jeremy skidded inside, breathless. Charlie glanced up from his makeshift desk. “He's back. Charlie, you have to come quick. He's completely lost it.”

Charlie was up and out of the tent before his mate had even finished speaking. Broad daylight bathed the region in suffocating heat that took his breath away when he stepped outside. The spouts of fire leaping over the ridge told Charlie where the kid was. Jeremy and Charlie ran towards the commotion, Jeremy reaching the small valley first.

Charlie slid down a crumbling rock face and caught up with Jeremy. He gripped the handler's arm. “What's going on?”

“Right now I think we're going to have to let him tire himself out. We've got a perimeter around the canyon. So far he's been bouncing off it. Once he gets tired enough we'll sedate them both.” Jeremy and Charlie ducked as the dragon's tail swept over their heads.

“Have you tried taking out the kid? If he's linked to the dragon it should bring them both down,” Charlie suggested. Jeremy nodded.

“The dragon blocks every spell we throw,” he complained. “They're linked, yea, but that also means the dragon can react at a human pace. He can see more of what we're doing.”

“Have you tried physically taking him down?” Charlie asked, keeping his eye on the blonde head amidst a pile or writhing dragon limbs. This was precisely the problem with this spell; it was too easy to get swept away. Then the link between human and animal stretched. If it snapped they'd lose not only Malfoy, but the dragon as well.

“None of us are fast enough,” Jeremy said. He touched his side briefly and winced. “I got nailed without even setting foot near the dragon's tail. We needed you, Mr Seeker.”

“Right.” Charlie squared his shoulders and drew his wand. “Don't come in after me.”

“You don't have to tell me twice,” Jeremy shot back. Charlie rolled his eyes and Summoned his broom. He hopped on it and cast a glare at Jeremy. The American waved. “Yea, yea. We know what to do. Don't kill yourself.”

Charlie would evade the dragon, drawing its attention from the handlers around, and snatch the kid to disable them both. If the dragon pursued, the handlers were to sedate it and give Charlie a chance to get to safety with the kid. Almost foolproof.

Charlie flew up above the dragon, silently cursing Malfoy for dragging him into this mess. Stupid Dumbledore and his stupid plans. Charlie spotted a flash of blonde and dove. He felt rather than saw jaws snap behind him as he stretched his fingers out to grasp the scruff of Malfoy's shirt. His arm felt like it was being pulled from his shoulder as he twisted into the air, the dragon too close behind. Malfoy kicked and screamed beneath him. Charlie roared for help from his co-workers, and then suddenly the kid went limp. Charlie saw the huge beast plummet to the ground, and let his broom slow. About damn time.

He hefted the kid into his lap and held him close as he guided the broom to the ground. Jeremy, Alon, and Miranda ran to meet him.

“Good work, Chuck. I knew I hired you for something,” Miranda said, slapping his shoulder. Charlie grunted and handed Malfoy to Alon while Jeremy and Miranda went to tend the dragon.

“You know him, right?” Alon asked. Charlie scowled.

“He goes to school with my kid brother. I wouldn't say I know him.”

“But he knows your face and voice. I need you to sit with him to help draw him out,” Alon said under his breath. They both had dealt with this spell before. It was never pretty. Charlie nodded grimly and followed Alon back to the make-shift hospital, dragging his broom.

The tent was hot in the midday sun. Charlie stalked to the opposite side of the tent and threw open the flaps. Cool breeze started to slowly filter into the tent, pushing the stifling air out. “You're going to give someone heat stroke,” Charlie groused as he moved beside Alon.

“Well, nobody's had a life-threatening injury in the last two hours,” Alon shot back. “Mostly because you were still asleep.” Alon was running diagnostics on the kid over the bed he had placed him in. A red bauble hovered above Malfoy's chest, keeping track of his heart rate and brain functions. “His temperature is spiking. He won't last much longer like this. We've got to wake him up. Hold him down.”

Charlie put a knee on the cot and pressed his forearm against Malfoy's chest. He pinned Malfoy's arm to his side with his other hand. Malfoy's eyes flashed open, irises gold and practically glowing. He lunged, but with Charlie's full weight on his chest only his head jerked up. His teeth clicked as he bit at Charlie. Charlie drove his elbow hard into Malfoy's shoulder, forcing the kid down further.

“Stay,” he growled. Alon was doing something over his shoulder.

“You took me from my home,” the kid spat, straining against Charlie's hold.

“You came willingly, Malfoy,” Charlie hissed. “I know you can hear me, you stupid son of a bitch.”

“You have held me against my will for decades.” Malfoy's voice had dropped several octaves and rasped oddly.

“You came here, Malfoy. You woke me up from a very pleasant slumber, a favour that I will have much enjoyment repaying,” Charlie snarled back. “Now snap out of it before I beat it out of you.”

“Charlie,” Alon murmured urgently. Malfoy's pulse monitor was flickering red and unsteady.

“Come on, kid,” Charlie grumbled. He gripped Malfoy's arm tighter. Sometimes pain helped draw the victims out; it gave them grounding in their bodies. “You're more stubborn than him. You can do it. Just push him back. Push harder.”

Malfoy gasped, straining. He let out a hoarse cry that tore at Charlie's heart. Damn Dumbledore and his insistence on sending kids into a damn war zone. Malfoy's eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped against the bundle of cloth that served as a pillow.

“Alon,” Charlie snapped.

“It's all right. It's all right,” Alon said quickly. “He's stabilizing. I can sever the connection without killing either of them.” Alon quickly pushed Charlie aside and drew a knife down the front of Malfoy's shirt. The cloth split like warm butter, and Alon pulled the stop off his Muggle-type marker. Israeli wizards weren't keen on quills, and Alon swore up and down that the permanent marker Jeremy had brought from America increased the potency of his runes, but Charlie had always thought it was a load of bullshit. This time, though, as he leaned across Malfoy's inert body, free hand resting on feverish skin, he hoped Alon was right.

Alon scribbled some runes down Malfoy's sternum and out across his collarbones. He then waved his wand, and leaned back, satisfied. “It's done. He's going to have to stay here until his fever drops,” Alon said, standing. “Watch over him. I do not envy what he's going to dream.”

Charlie felt Sympathy brick Irritation over the head and leave it bloodied on the ground in a back alley. He grabbed a bowl of cool water from Alon and dipped a soft cloth in. Alon stood beside him as he smoothed the damp cloth over Malfoy's forehead.

“You're positively maternal,” Alon chuckled.

“The kid's just doing what Dumbledore sent him to do,” Charlie said roughly. “I can't be angry at him.” He soothed the cloth down Malfoy's throat and chest, cleaning the cooling sweat away so he didn't chill.

“What do you think The Man's going to have him do?” Alon asked softly.

“I don't really want to think about it,” Charlie said woodenly, leaning back and glancing at Alon. “What group has the most powerful animals in the world at their command?” Alon's eyes narrowed.

“You don't think...”

“Yes. I do. Alon, he's good enough. Think about it. He fell too deeply into the link and lost it, yet he still managed to get the beast here, where we could restrain him without causing damage,” Charlie said in a low voice. “That takes strength.”

“Or sheer chutzpa,” Alon countered, folding his arms over his chest. Charlie picked up one of the kid's limp hands and carefully wiped the blood away. He had shredded his palms on the dragon hide trying to maintain control. He was casting a very mild healing spell when the fist in his hands clenched suddenly, and the next thing Charlie knew, stars exploded across his vision.


	4. Chapter 4

He tumbled off the cot, taken completely by surprise. Alon cried out above him, but the yell was cut off and Charlie rolled out of the way of Alon dropping heavily to the floor, unconscious.

Solid weight landed on his chest, forcing the air out of his lungs, and a hand clamped down on his throat. He choked, gasping but failing to suck in air. Malfoy leaned over him, face violent.

“Where's my wand?” he barked. Charlie hit the inside of Malfoy's elbow, loosening the choke substantially. He rolled, throwing Malfoy off, and grappled for the kid's hands to restrain him. Black spots flew across his vision, but he blinked them back, panting forcefully to get his breath back.

Malfoy threw an elbow at his temple. He ducked and drove his shoulder into Malfoy's ribs. The kid let out a breathless gasp and fell to the ground under Charlie's weight. “Hell of a way to thank the people who just saved your life,” Charlie grunted.

“I'm sure undressing me had loads to do with whatever spell you were performing,” Malfoy snarled, writhing under Charlie. Charlie's grip was tenuous. If Malfoy leaned at precisely the right angle he'd be free. Charlie had to keep him distracted.

“Alon is Israeli. You know how they are with their runes. He had to sever your connection with the dragon or it would have killed you both,” Charlie snapped. “Stop struggling, you're going to hurt yourself further.” To prove it, Charlie pressed slightly on Malfoy's elbow. Even the light movement tore a shuddering gasp from the kid. “I swear I will never harm you,” Charlie said firmly, over Malfoy's desperate bids for breath amidst agonizing pain. “Please trust me.”

Charlie slowly eased off his sloppy pin, and Malfoy (shockingly) stayed where he was, face pressed to the packed-dirt floor, struggling to breathe. Charlie shook the last of the stars out of his eyes and pushed himself up on his knees. He grabbed Malfoy's arm and dragged the kid upright. Malfoy had gone limp, but he was still conscious. Charlie was painfully aware of the restrained gasps accompanying the tears sliding down Malfoy's cheeks.

“Come on,” Charlie said gently, gathering the kid into his arms. He lifted Malfoy onto the cot and sat with him, chest to chest. Malfoy wrapped his arms around Charlie's neck and let his face drop on Charlie's shoulder. He cried absolutely silently, and Charlie rubbed his back slowly. “You did good, kid,” Charlie murmured in Malfoy's ear. “You did good. You brought him back here, and we took care of you both. You did good.”

Malfoy fingers clenched, scraping against the skin of his back. Charlie pressed his mouth to Malfoy's shoulder and held him just a bit tighter. He remembered sitting like this with Ron, when he was younger, after a nightmare. People should never be too old for comfort.

“Bloody hell.” Alon's voice drifted up from the ground. Charlie glanced at the medic to see him sitting up, holding his head. “What just happened?”

“We startled him,” Charlie said. Alon painfully got to his feet.

“ _We_ startled _him_?” Alon gasped incredulously. Charlie threw him an exasperated glare. “He blackened your eye!” Alon pointed out.

“I've got it under control,” Charlie said. “Can you leave us for a bit?” Alon rolled his eyes.

“You and your injured beast syndrome,” Alon drawled, shaking his head. He grabbed his wand and left. The tent fell silent.

Malfoy's breathing evened, and Charlie was able to gently extricate himself from the kid's limbs and rest him on the cot. Charlie wiped tear trails from slack cheeks and rested his hand on Malfoy's chest, feeling the steady rhythm of the kid's heart. He sat with the kid for hours until he finally woke up again, naturally this time, and with only slight disorientation.

“Welcome back,” Charlie said gently, not willing to risk another one of Malfoy's violent episodes. “Can you remember anything?”

“Fire,” Malfoy said, his eyes staring through Charlie. “Fire and screaming.”

“It's all right,” Charlie said, resting a hand on Malfoy's bared hip. Startled out of his trance by the casual touch, Malfoy levelled a searing glare at him. Charlie left his hand where it was. There was no way the kid could possibly intimidate him. Not after everything Charlie had seen.

“Do you routinely accost your charges or is it just my stunning beauty?” Malfoy asked coldly.

“I think it was more the biting, and the blood, and the screaming that did it, honestly,” Charlie answered back snidely. Malfoy's eyes widened slightly.

“I bit you?”

“Tried to,” Charlie said. “Failed, luckily. Otherwise you'd have a black eye as well.” Malfoy's eyes, now returned to their normal grey, flicked to the bruise rising on Charlie's cheek.

“I appreciate the lack of disfiguration,” Malfoy said tightly. “Will you please remove your hand?”

“What does Dumbledore want with the Riders?” Charlie asked, ignoring the request. Malfoy's eyes narrowed.

“What are the Riders?”

“Don't play stupid with me, kid,” Charlie snapped. “I'm not a moron. Dumbledore wouldn't send a child like you into an active war zone unless it was important.”

“Excuse _you_ , sir. I am eighteen,” Malfoy blustered, a red flush spotting his cheeks. Charlie cocked an eyebrow. Malfoy pressed his lips into a thin line.

“What does Dumbledore want with the Riders?” Charlie repeated. Malfoy carefully sat up. He slowly reached out, lifted Charlie's elbow, and drew his fingers along the waistline of Charlie's trousers. He gently drew the cloth down from Charlie's hip, revealing a non-magic tattoo emblazoned on Charlie's hip.

“You're one of them,” Malfoy said, voice leaving no room for argument. Charlie received no resistance when he pried Malfoy's fingers from their hold. “I knew it.”

“I'm not going to ask you again, kid,” Charlie warned, ignoring the conclusion.

“He wants to make sure the Dark Lord doesn't get to the Riders first,” Malfoy said in a low voice.

“The Riders are non-partisan,” Charlie said firmly. “We don't take sides.”

“Yes. Until the Dark Lord takes one of your numbers hostage. Or offers you a prize you can't refuse,” Malfoy said, is eyes drilling through Charlie's. “And he'll make it good. How do you think he got the giants on his side?”

“The giants are quite a bit easier to sway than the Riders,” Charlie growled.

“And when he approached you when you're linked to the dragon? When all you can feel is the raw power of the beast beneath you, and the magic churning in your lungs. What then?”

“We're all more experienced at the link than you. Some of us don't even use a link at all. We don't have the high you got. He'd have to do a hell of a job talking to convince us.” Charlie refused to draw back as Malfoy started to encroach his personal space.

“He probably already has,” Malfoy hissed. “You don't know how he works.”

“What is your plan?” Charlie asked.

“Lead me to the next meeting,” Malfoy said.

“You're kidding,” Charlie burst out. Malfoy set his jaw tightly. A brief shiver racked Malfoy's frame. Charlie reached around the kid and grabbed the blanket from where it had been tossed aside. He drew it around Malfoy's shoulders and held it there.

Malfoy closed his eyes and exhaled hard through his nose. “So c-cold,” he stammered.

“You've got dragon fever, kid, what did you expect?” Charlie murmured gently.

“Isn't there something you can get me?” Malfoy hissed out between clenched teeth. The shivers were turning violent, shaking the whole cot. Charlie stood and grabbed an empty basin from one of Alon's stations. He returned to Malfoy's side and sat down. He held the basin in front of Malfoy not a second too soon. The kid wrapped his bloodied hands around the rim and retched, nothing coming up but bile and a bit of blood. Malfoy leaned forward, and Charlie moved the basin to the floor (still within quick reach) as Malfoy curled in on himself, whimpering.

Charlie gently ran his fingers through Malfoy's hair, brushing it back away from his face. “It's all right,” he soothed. He lightly cupped the back of Malfoy's neck and massaged goose-bumped skin. “Shh...”

“Why are you doing this?” Malfoy groaned weakly.

“Doing what?” Charlie murmured.

“Tending to the sick and slobbering,” Malfoy managed between pants for breath.

“This is what people do,” Charlie chuckled lightly. “I've been there. I was fortunate enough to have Alon looking after me. You don't want to go through this alone.”

“You sound very certain.” Malfoy's sharp sarcasm was blunted by his voice cracking miserably.

“Well, your death grip on my shirt is actually starting to hurt,” Charlie said, placing one hand over Malfoy's fist. The white-knuckled grasp was twisting the fabric of his shirt painfully tight. Malfoy glanced at his hand in shock, as if he hadn't known it was there. He loosened the hold, but Charlie didn't let go, and instead twisted their fingers together.

“It's all right to ask for comfort. You've been through an extremely traumatizing spell,” Charlie said softly, mildly amused by the kid. The far greater part of him was still worried, though. Charlie touched his free hand to Malfoy's hair. “Rest. I'll watch over you. We'll talk more when your fever drops.”

Malfoy was out like a light at the touch. Charlie manoeuvred him into a more comfortable position and turned the kid's hand over in his grasp. Strong magic would only trigger the dragon sickness further, which was one of the reason Charlie could do little to ease Malfoy's pain. Malfoy also had to experience the sickness as motivation to conquer the link.

Charlie used a mild healing spell on Malfoy's palms, one that merely cleaned the wounds to prepare for the skin to heal itself. He then took some of Alon's bandages and wrapped Malfoy's hands.

“Are you finished taming him?”

Charlie glanced up to see Alon sticking his head into the tent. “I doubt he can be tamed,” Charlie shot back with a wry grin. “Handled, yes. Tamed, not nearly.” Alon moved beside the bed and looked over Charlie's handiwork. “He wants to come to the next Rider meeting.”

Alon glanced at him sharply. “What?” Charlie nodded. “You're not... You can't be thinking what I know you're thinking...”

“He's worried the Dark Lord is going to try to sway the Rider to his side,” Charlie said. Alon frowned.

“First, how do either Dumbledore _or_ the Dark Lord know about the Riders?”

“Dumbledore sticks his fingers into history, and the Dark Lord is obsessed with Ancient Arts. You know that. The Riders have been around since the Enlightenment.”

“Yes, but the entire idea behind a secret society is that it remains a _secret_ ,” Alon said pointedly. “We can't let some kid in just because there's a war on.”

“He has a point, Alon,” Charlie said in a low voice. “We've never gotten involved in Muggle wars because they were just that: _Muggle_ wars. This is a Wizard war. The Dark Lord may have already reached out to one of us. Stuck here on this reserve, we don't know how far his reach has extended. The kid seems to think we have a traitor in our ranks.”

“That's ridiculous,” Alon scoffed. “We would have heard something from the others.” Charlie lifted an eyebrow. Alon snorted. “Fine. How are we going to get the council to not kill us for leading him?”

“I'll have to be collateral,” Charlie said quietly. Alon blinked at him and pursed his lips. He placed a firm hand on Charlie's shoulder.

“How well do you know this kid?” Alon asked, all joking gone from his voice.

“Not at all.”

“And why, exactly, do you have it in your stupid head to lay down your life for him?”

Charlie took a deep, steadying breath and let it out slowly. “I don't know,” he said finally. “He intrigues me. And we need to take the chance that he's on to something. If someone is planning to use the dragons, we need to know. We need to keep the dragons out of either side's clutches.”

“Come on, Charlie. Who is convincing enough to change over seven hundred years of tradition?” Alon burst out.

Charlie ignored Alon for the moment, giving him time to think. He turned Malfoy's hand over in his lap. The leather armlets had protected him from damage on his forearms, but his wrists were rubbed raw from where the leather ended.

“I'll help you clean those,” Alon said softly. He walked to one of his medical tables and started rummaging. Charlie began unlacing the bindings on the armlet. Malfoy's arm jerked out of his grasp. Charlie blinked in surprise and glanced up to meet Malfoy's annoyed glare.

“I told you not to touch those,” he growled.

“Malfoy, they've shredded your wrists. We have to get you cleaned up or you're not going to be able to come with us tonight.”

Alon and Malfoy both stared at him. “Tonight?” Malfoy repeated.

“The Riders meet tonight,” Charlie said, feeling Alon's stare bored into his head.

“Charlie,” Alon hissed in warning. Charlie ignored him. Malfoy's eyes met his.

“You'll take me?” he asked, voice steady as he retied the laces Charlie had undone.

“Yes. Under the condition that you follow my every order. To the letter,” Charlie said. “This isn't a werewolf tea party.”

“I think I'd rather have the werewolf tea party,” Malfoy grumbled. He gripped the remnants of his shirt and picked at the knife cut with a look of disdain. “Who destroyed my custom-fit Dingleslat?”

Charlie flicked his eyes to Alon. Malfoy followed his gaze. “ _You_?” Malfoy sneered.

“I saved your life, kid,” Alon snapped, jerking a finger at Malfoy. “I don't give a damn about your sixty thousand Galleon shirt.”

“Ninety thousand,” Malfoy growled. He glanced down to survey the damage and yelled out in horror. He scrubbed two fingers over the marks Alon had left on his chest. “Is this permanent!?” he howled.

Alon and Charlie burst out laughing.


	5. Chapter 5

“I still can't believe you let him scribble on my skin in permanent ink!” Malfoy shouted over the whipping wind. Charlie rolled his eyes behind the goggles he wore and dipped hard into the wind. Malfoy hastened to follow, whirling into a dangerous corkscrew to level out directly behind Charlie. Charlie could see his eyes glowing through the cloudy mist they flew through. He hoped the kid was well enough to hold his own for the meeting. If he went crazy over the link, Charlie would be in serious trouble.

According to custom, Alon had flown ahead so they'd arrive separately. Only a few of the handlers at the Romanian reserve were actually Riders, and they had to stagger their flights so as not to attract attention, and to arrive separately. The only time one was allowed to arrive with another Rider was when an initiation was going to take place. Charlie fervently hoped they wouldn't force Malfoy through an initiation task. The kid wasn't up to it right now.

The air was cold around them, and growing colder. The sun had long set on this part of the globe, and the place they were heading was in a constant state of sunrise at this time of year. And cold. Desperately, painfully cold. They were flying north. All the way north.

“So,” Malfoy shouted again. “Why exactly are we flying to the Arctic?”

“The cold keeps the dragons occupied while we talk,” Charlie shouted back. “And there's no chance of accidentally running into Muggles up there.”

“But aren't there... monsters or something up there?” Malfoy yelled. “Snow monsters?”

“Don't worry, Malfoy, I'll protect you,” Charlie answered with a laugh. He banked, tearing through a small tuft of clouds in front of him, Malfoy close on his tail. The kid was good, he had to admit. Charlie rarely tapped into the link when he was riding now, preferring to use his strength and reflexes rather than rely on the dragon's. Malfoy still had to learn how the dragon flew before he could think about getting rid of the link. Maybe once the war was over, the council would consider letting Malfoy apply. It wasn't every day an eighteen year old boy could mount a dragon and ride within minutes.

“I'm holding you to that,” Malfoy called up to him. He had urged his dragon under Charlie's right wing. Charlie dipped the wing and swooped over Malfoy in a roll.

“Right. You just give a scream and I'll come running,” Charlie suggested. He could hear Malfoy's blustering stammers at the implication he'd squeal. “We're almost there, so shut up. I'm going to be in enough trouble as it is.”

“How much trouble?” Malfoy ignored him. Charlie took a steadying breath.

“Life-threatening trouble. Shut up. Really.” Charlie gripped his dragon and pulled him into a hard turn, spinning down towards the ground. Malfoy, surprisingly, kept his mouth closed and followed. Charlie's Norwegian Ridgeback, Kjell, slammed to the ground with a growl and a spray of snow and ice. Malfoy's Welsh hit the ground a bit less gracefully behind him, and together they walked towards what appeared to be fireworks going off in the distance. Charlie bit back the urge to explain what was going on. Occasionally, to keep warm, the dragons would spout hot air into the surrounding fog to heat it. This in turn kept the Riders warm during their meetings. Of course, it also lent to quite a few burns.

“Charlie! Hey guys, Charlie's here!” a voice cried out in the fog. Charlie lifted himself on the Ridgeback's head and waved to his comrades. The random chatter slowed as he drew closer, though, and those in the group saw who was behind him.

“Charlie, who's that?”

“You askin' for a beatin', boy!”

“Charlie.”

Charlie watched as a large, Chinese Fireball emerged from the darkened fog. Perched atop the massive head was Shin Li, the head Chancellor of the Riders. Charlie forced his anxiety down. He had to at least appear firm in his conviction that Malfoy knew what he was talking about.

“What is this? You are well aware of our rules.” Shin Li's dragon shifted uneasily on the ice under his feet. The Chinese dragons disliked snow and ice.

“I believed we needed a small reprieve in this instance,” Charlie said firmly over the howling wind. Wards were put up around the gathering site, but because the wards couldn't be terribly strong on account of the amount of Riders who used the link, some of the chill still seeped through.

“And are you going to hold yourself responsible?” Shin Li asked, his voice stern and unforgiving.

“Yes sir,” Charlie said. “But we have concern that there's been a security breach. Or at the very least, a breach in protocol.”

“What do you mean?” Shin Li asked, his stern face looking rock solid in the face of the Arctic wind whipping his hair into his eyes.

“Malfoy believes we've been compromised.”

“If I was able to find out about you, so have others,” Malfoy called out from behind Charlie. Charlie whirled on his perch and glared viciously at the kid. Malfoy clacked his jaw shut, as if just realising what he had done. He glanced at Charlie, his eyes almost apologetic.

“Your pet has a mouth,” Shin Li noted with slight disdain. “You have informed him of the penalties of knowing our location, correct?”

“Yes sir,” Charlie said, heart pounding in his chest. He held tight to his dragon's head, preventing the beast from tearing away from his grasp as he tossed impatiently.

“We have an important matter we need to discuss,” Shin Li roared, addressing the group. “An outsider has petitioned for our assistance.”

Charlie felt a chill that was entirely unrelated to the freezing wind. Behind him, Malfoy's dragon stomped in irritation.

“By who?” Another Chinese Fireball leapt into the centre of the group. A wiry Japanese lad perched on her head, appearing as if he was barely holding on. Charlie grinned. So Tetsuya had made it then. He was one of the rare ones who made dragon-riding look easy; which merely encouraged others to try it and get severely injured, or die. Tetsuya also had more initiates to his name than any other Rider. He was already sidling over to Malfoy to check him out. Tetsuya was the only Rider to have mounted a female dragon and lived.

Elhaearn growled as the Chinese female approached. Malfoy performed exceedingly well under the harsh test. He maintained moderate control over the dragon. Tetsuya seemed pleased and back off.

“Nice, Charlie,” he called over the biting wind. Charlie flashed him a grin. Approval from Tetsuya was all the vindication he needed to know he had made the right choice leading Malfoy here.

“Our petitioner has offered a generous reward for our compliance,” Shin Li was continuing. “A larger reserve for dragons worldwide. He has also offered monetary compensation for building the reservation, and the promise that he would talk with the local Muggle government to assure an amiable relationship concerning the dragons.”

“What's the catch?” yelled an American. Charlie glanced in the direction to see Chris Mercury haul in his dragon's head in time to prevent the Longhorn from biting the Welsh beside him.

“We need to help in some... deforestation,” Shin Li shouted. A murmur ran through the group.

“Sounds too good to be true,” called another Rider.

“That's because it is.” Malfoy's voice rang out sharply in the cold air. “Your benefactor is You Know Who,” Malfoy said to Shin Li.

“No, it is a very nice old man with a great deal of disposable income,” Shin Li said firmly. “I met him myself.”

“That means nothing. You know how easy it is to Imperius a Muggle,” Malfoy scoffed. “This scheme is exactly his method of operation.”

“He's given me the coordinates he wants razed. They are indeed a forest,” Shin Li said, his face twisting in irritation. “Hold your tongue, insolent boy, or I will tear you apart.”

“Charlie, you have to listen to me,” Malfoy ignored Shin Li and turned to Charlie. “They can't take his contract. They'll be bound to it. That's how he gets you-”

A fireball exploded beside Malfoy's face. He jerked away, Elhaearn letting out an ear-shattering shriek. Charlie moved to intervene, but he was too slow. Shin Li and the dragon whipped past Charlie and lunged at Malfoy, grappling Elhaearn to the frigid ground. But when Elhaearn roared, it was not of terror.

Oh crap, Charlie thought insanely. Malfoy was pissed. Shin Li must have singed his hair or something. One of them was going to die.

Charlie's Ridgeback reared suddenly, nearly throwing him. The entire group fell silent and every single dragon looked to one direction, even Malfoy's and Shin Li's. Kjell let out a low, throaty growl. He peered in the direction the dragon was staring, seeing nothing.

“What is it?” he whispered, wary of breaking the silence.

Tetsuya was standing on his dragon's head, no fear of being thrown at all. He stared, and then his eyes went wide. He dropped into a crouch onto his dragon and spun her. “ _Kyukonki_!” he yelled.

Dementors.

The group erupted in chaos. Dragon took to the sky in a whirlwind of snow and ice. Charlie struggled to keep Kjell under control. Ridgebacks feared no animal, and the scent of Dementors ignited their protective instinct- which was also their fighting instinct.

He wrestled with whatever he could hold on to, forcing the beast to stay on the ground. He had to get Malfoy. Welsh Greenbacks were terrified of Dementors. He dug his knees into the side of Kjell's neck, driving him to a controllable crouch. “ _Obey me_ ,” he hissed, mostly to himself.

“ _Charlie_!”

He whipped his head up in time to see Malfoy jerk Elhaearn between Kjell and a lethal-sized jet of flame.

“Malfoy!” Charlie's shout was drowned out by the kid's screams and Elhaearn's roar. Boy and dragon dropped to the packed snow and lay still, Elhaearn's body smoking.

Charlie did what a Rider never does. Ever. He leapt off his dragon and bolted around the downed beast. His boots slipped and slid on the ice beneath his feet. He fell to his knees next to Malfoy's inert body.

“Malfoy,” Charlie yelled sharply. He grabbed Malfoy's heavily coated shoulders and rolled him over. The kid's face was slack and very pale. “Okay. Come on, Malfoy. Be breathing,” Charlie hissed, feeling bitter cold seep into his bones. Away from the heat of the dragon, the Arctic cold was attacking. Charlie dragged Malfoy up by the lapels of his fur coat, staggering under his dead weight with rapidly numbing limbs. “Wake _up_ , you _idiot_!” Charlie wailed, extremely frustrated and angry that Malfoy had taken a hit for him.

Malfoy's weight lessened suddenly, and hands grabbed Charlie's arms. Malfoy's face jolted into his sight, and Charlie caught a glimpse of yellow eyes before the kid shoved him hard to the ground. He gasped as he hit, and pushed himself up to see Malfoy scuffling with Shin Li.

Shin Li had also dismounted.

The glint of a blade flashed in the perpetual sunrise. Shin Li wore a ceremonial dagger that Charlie knew could cut skin as easily as a butcher's knife. Charlie pushed himself up on wildly protesting legs and staggered towards the two.

Malfoy dodged a stab by mere inches, and he grabbed the wrist with the knife. He yelled and twisted the arm, flipping Shin Li to the ground. The knife fell from his hand and Malfoy kicked it away. Shin Li fisted a hand in Malfoy's shoulder and flipped him. Malfoy's back hit the ice and he cried out in surprise.

Charlie grabbed Shin Li's ankle, to try and prevent him from going anywhere. Shin Li's other foot connected with his head, and the world blacked out for a moment.


	6. Chapter 6

Charlie dragged himself to consciousness in time to see Shin Li rush Malfoy. “ _No_!” he tried yelling around a numb tongue. Shin Li tackled Malfoy to the ground and they both lay still. “Shit.” Charlie rolled onto his knees and crawled to them. He shoved Shin Li hard, putting his shoulder into it as his hands were nearly frozen. Malfoy—ohthankMerlin-- pushed up with one of his arms, gasping. Together they rolled Shin Li over, and Charlie grimaced when he saw Shin Li's own knife sunk to the hilt in his chest.

Only when he saw the knife did Charlie realise how scared he had been. He couldn't let the kid die, not after all he had done to keep him alive. Charlie whirled on Malfoy and swept the kid into a fierce hug. Malfoy gasped, not in surprise, but in pain. Charlie released him.

“My arm,” Malfoy hissed, lips blue and skin deathly white.

“Come on, we're going home,” Charlie said forcefully. “Up, come on.” Charlie had to drag Malfoy up and heft him onto Elhaearn, who rumbled in sympathy. “Can you make it?” Charlie asked, grabbing Malfoy's ankle.

Malfoy gazed down at him with golden eyes. “Can you?” he asked coldly. He yanked Elhaearn's head with his good hand and took off. Charlie watched until he couldn't feel his knees, and turned, expecting to catch a ride back with Tetsuya, and saw Kjell waiting for him. Every other Rider had vanished.

Charlie stomped to his dragon and swung himself up. He couldn't' believe the beast had waited for him.

Charlie launched into the air. He had lost sight of Malfoy, and he didn't see him the entire way back to Romania. He kept his fists tight to Kjell's scales. Elhaearn knew the way back, but what if they had gotten too weak and fallen into the ocean? Or crash-landed in the middle of Athens?

The terrifying thoughts cascaded through his mind during the flight. He was glad Kjell seemed as intent on getting home as he was, because he couldn't pay attention. Not until he grabbed onto Malfoy and never let go.

Kjell set down and actually let Charlie off before leaping away.

“Took you long enough.”

Charlie whirled to see Malfoy shucking off the huge fur coat in front of his tent. He closed his jaw and strode forward as Malfoy kept talking. “What were you bloody doing? Did you stop for dinner or some--”

Charlie cut him off, gripping his upper arms and slamming their lips together. Malfoy let out a surprised gasp that quickly became a whimper of pain. Charlie let go as Malfoy pushed him back, injured arm away from Charlie.

“What are you doing?” Malfoy hissed, grey eyes wide. He held Charlie at arm's length with gentle pressure from his fingertips.

“You're alive.”

“No thanks to you. I'd rather not have killed Shin Li, if that matters at all. You got in the way.”

“ _You_ got in the way of that fireball.”

“Dumbledore said no civilian casualties.” Malfoy completely ignored the statement and inched closer. “The Riders were attacked. If you knew anything about military tactics you would have seen it coming. We shouldn't be alive because you're an idiot.”

“So you saved my arse, then?” Charlie chuckled breathlessly as Malfoy drew so close Charlie could feel him shaking.

“Yes, and this is how you repay me,” Malfoy breathed. His words ghosted over Charlie's lips, and finally, after what felt like aeons of teasing, Malfoy pressed his lips to Charlie's. The first touch was light, the second firmer. Then Malfoy was bearing down on his lips, all teeth and tongue. His hand fisted in Charlie's shirt, a hard fist of bones between both their chests. Charlie rested his hands on Malfoy's upper arms, where he didn't pull away in pain, and grabbed hard.

Malfoy panted harshly between ravaging kisses as Charlie backed him into his tent. Charlie's hands refused to stay still. He slid his fingers between their bodies and grasped the belt of Malfoy's trousers. The belt came free without issue, and Charlie spared a second away from Malfoy's lips to grab all his blankets off his cot and toss them on the ground (there's no way his cot would hold the both of them). He shoved Malfoy down on the blankets, and the kid gasped out in agony as he landed practically on his arm.

“Oh shit,” Charlie dropped to his knees beside the kid. “I'm sorry. Let me heal that quick-” He reached for the laces on the armlet, but Malfoy pulled back.

“No, no, leave it on,” Malfoy gasped, breathless from kissing. “I think it's splinting it.” And without further pause he twisted his good hand in Charlie's shirt and dragged him down into a fierce, biting kiss. Charlie couldn't exactly argue with that as he arched over the kid, hips grinding against hips. He had to remember not to lean on that arm. They'd heal it later.

Charlie released Malfoy's mouth to gasping protests and worked his way down the kid's throat, nipping and biting and eliciting brief, swallowed moans of pleasure. Charlie wriggled free of his shirt with Malfoy's help, and Malfoy dragged his fingers down Charlie's ribs, gripping Charlie's trousers. With a burst out snort of impatience, Charlie straightened just long enough to lower his trousers from his hips, and Malfoy pushed them down his thighs.

“I need you to kiss me agai-” Charlie cut off Malfoy's growl of frustration by sealing his lips over the kid's. Malfoy's breath hissed out, and his hand found Charlie's prick. Charlie chuckled low in his throat and returned the favour, palming Malfoy's crotch through his trousers, making the scrawny body arch off the mat. Their teeth clacked together as Malfoy tried to lift his head, to get some leverage against Charlie, but Charlie pushed back, the bruising kiss sending heat flooding to every part of his body.

Malfoy stroked him, heating the fire already burning in his gut, and tangled their legs together, squeezing and holding him in place. As if he were going to go somewhere. As if there was anywhere in the world more interesting than right here in his tent with this pasty, blonde, thin-boned, dragon rider. Charlie wiggled back Malfoy's trousers and freed his erection, grasping it firmly in his large hand. The kid gasped, not expecting it, and twisted a bit hard. Charlie grunted and bit Malfoy's lip. Split lip to go with the rising black eye.

The kid didn't seem to mind, and captured Charlie's lips with renewed fervour. Charlie tasted blood, but wasn't concerned enough to stop as the kid did something with his hand that made his brain fuzz out for a brief moment with pleasure. The kid came in his hand, and Charlie politely ignored the brilliant flush colouring his cheeks of embarrassment. To his credit, Malfoy didn't say anything. Not that he could; Charlie was drawing the very air from his lungs with his kisses.

Charlie took pity on the kid and cupped his larger hand around Malfoy's, giving him a guiding 'hand'. He came after a few well timed strokes, and loosed his lips from Malfoy's so that he could breathe. He pressed his cheek to Malfoy's, relishing the kid's panting breaths, and drew his fingers roughly through the kid's hair. He pressed a few quick pecks on Malfoy's lips before pushing himself up.

Malfoy had flung his broken arm over his head and out of the way, and now he looked so thoroughly tussled and breathless that Charlie almost wanted to go at it again. Some of Alon's marks had smeared in the sweat glittering on Malfoy's body. Malfoy's chest heaved from exertion, the black ink stark on fair skin, reminding him of everything the kid had been through. Charlie really needed to let him rest. He got up on his knees and hiked his trousers up. Malfoy opened one eye and scowled.

“You didn't even get out of your trousers,” he grumbled discontentedly.

“You got my shirt off,” Charlie laughed. “Lie still, I'll get you cleaned up.” He clambered off Malfoy and grabbed a cloth from his bedside. He warmed it with a quick spell, and stretched out next to Malfoy, rubbing the cloth gently over exposed skin. Malfoy licked his lip and touched fingers to it. He looked at his hand and frowned.

“My god, man, you bit me,” Malfoy burst. “Are you human?”

“I think so,” Charlie said, chuckling. “I can't imagine I look any better.” Malfoy glanced at him and hmphed a small sound of approval at the damage he had apparently done. Charlie grinned wryly. Charlie healed Malfoy's eye and lip but hesitated when he got to the arm. “We should have Alon look at it.”

“Eugh. Right now?” Malfoy groaned.

“Doesn't it hurt?” Charlie asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Too fuzzy for it to hurt,” Malfoy said dazedly. He closed his eyes and tipped his head to the side, as if intent to fall asleep right then and there.

“Hey, kid,” Charlie said, shaking Malfoy gently. Malfoy moaned.

“Leave me be. I'm going to sleep,” he ordered without opening his eyes. “You can join me if you wish.”

“Thanks for your permission,” Charlie chuckled, tossing the cloth up onto his cot. He shifted carefully beside Malfoy and tipped the kid up against him. The warm body tensed for a moment before relaxing against his chest. “Don't worry, kid, I've got you,” he murmured softly into the skin behind Malfoy's ear.


	7. Chapter 7

Charlie rolled over and his arm flopped down on hard ground. He winced as the shock reverberated to his shoulder, and opened his eyes. Malfoy was gone.

Charlie chuckled and pushed himself to his knees. Of course Malfoy wouldn't stay. Why would he?

He gathered up the mess they had made the night before and tossed it onto the cot. He needed a shower. Or, at the very least, a good long swim in the creek.

Sunlight was starting to wash over the mountains as he headed back to his tent after his make-shift bath. Miranda and Jeremy were waiting for him, both solemn-faced. Miranda held a newspaper tightly in one hand.

“Look,” Miranda said sharply. She shoved the paper at his face. Charlie grabbed it with his free hand (the one _not_ holding a towel around his waist) and stared at the headline.

Dragons Loose in Welsh Countryside

The picture was a field going up in flames, a dragon swirling overhead. Only someone truly searching could see the tiny figure perched atop the beast. The paper hadn't picked up on the rider.

“ 'What Muggles think is an extraordinarily bad forest fire is, in fact, the work of a rogue dragon, reporters discovered upon analysing the above picture',” Charlie read, his voice wooden.

“Over a hundred people died in this fire,” Miranda hissed. “Including an entire orphanage. That's a Welsh Green, Charlie.” Her words sounded muffled to Charlie's ears. He refused to believe it. “Charlie. Look at the clouds.”

As he watched the picture play on the cover, the clouds formed the infamous skull and snake. Fuzzy and incoherent, ignorable to the casual reader but there. Charlie felt a chill slide down his spine.

“No,” he murmured in disbelief. “I... No. This can't be true.”

“Charlie,” Jeremy said firmly. “Your boy is working for the Dark Lord.”

“Impossible,” Charlie snapped. “I'd have seen the-” Charlie froze. Malfoy had never taken off the armlets last night. The one armlet. “Oh _Merlin_ ,” Charlie breathed. “No. _No_.”

“Charlie-” Jeremy started. Charlie threw the newspaper at Jeremy and pushed into his tent.

“Charlie,” Miranda snapped, following him. Charlie dressed quickly, trying to sort through the thoughts roiling in his mind. “We have to find him. We have to stop him.”

“I know,” Charlie said tersely.

“Are you all right?” Jeremy asked.

“No, I'm not all right,” Charlie snapped. “He tricked us all. I feel like the world's biggest _idiot_.” Anger started to tear away at shock. It made sense now. Everything fit, and Charlie had played right into Malfoy's hands. He picked up a water cup and hurled it across the room. Miranda and Jeremy watched it fly, then brought their eyes back to Charlie.

“Take that anger. Find him,” Miranda ordered. “I want my dragon, and I want _him_ dead.”

Jeremy and Charlie nodded. Charlie snatched his wand off his cot as he followed Jeremy out of the tent. Jeremy grabbed Charlie's arm. “You didn't sleep with him, did you?” Jeremy hissed. Charlie scowled at Jeremy. “Oh my _god_ ,” Jeremy hissed. “He could have killed you!”

“He still needs me,” Charlie spat bitterly. “I take care of his dragon.” His gut clenched. He had led Malfoy right to the Riders. Right to their council leader. Son of a whore, he had let Malfoy _kill_ their chancellor. He wanted to scream in frustration.

A huge shadow swept over them, forcing their eyes upward. “Speak of the devil himself,” Jeremy swore, taking off. Oh _no_. Jeremy was _not_ going to get Malfoy first. Charlie bolted after Jeremy. They slid towards the dragon as Malfoy dismounted and staggered clear of the beast.

Charlie surged up against Malfoy, grabbing the bastard's shirt and slamming him against the canyon wall so hard Malfoy choked on air exploding from his lungs.

“Wait,” Malfoy cried before Charlie's arm slid against his throat. “Let me explain,” Malfoy grunted with what precious air he had left.

“Charlie,” Jeremy warned. Charlie ignored him and unsheathed the utility knife he always wore belted to his side. He pressed it to the laces of Malfoy's left armlet and swept the knife down. Malfoy hissed as the blade dragged along flesh, and the armlet fell to the ground. The Dark Mark burned black on the fair skin of Malfoy's inner arm as the fresh cut bled. Charlie returned his eyes to Malfoy's and leaned harder on his windpipe. He was so furious he saw a haze of red at the edge of his vision.

Malfoy grabbed at Charlie's elbow, gasping pathetically. “Charlie!” Jeremy snapped.

“Why did you come back?” Charlie growled.

“T-Talk to you,” Malfoy managed through grit teeth.

“You killed Shin Li,” Charlie snarled. “You murdered _children_.”

“ _Charlie_! You're going to kill him,” Jeremy said urgently. Charlie drew back fractionally. He heard Malfoy gulp in air before a stunning blow struck his ribs. He gasped and dropped to his knees. Malfoy roared over him as he knocked Jeremy to the ground. The American struck his head on a rock and lay still.

Charlie rose, fists clenched. He was _so_ ready to beat the crap out of this kid.

Malfoy swung at him and Charlie blocked. The arm slid off his, smearing blood from the cut Charlie had dealt. Charlie shifted out of the way of a knee, and grabbed the bloodied arm. He whirled and yanked the arm over his shoulder. Malfoy followed with a sharp gasp of pain. He landed hard on the ground on his back, and rolled, twisting away from Charlie's grip. He kicked hard, and Charlie felt the heel of a boot connect with his elbow. His entire arm went numb as he spun away.

“Will you just listen to me?” Malfoy cried after him. “I can explain everything!”

“Why should I listen to anything you say?” Charlie yelled ferociously. “You're a _Death Eater_.” He swung at Malfoy, and the kid managed a few good blocks before Charlie landed a solid roundhouse to his jaw. Malfoy staggered and dropped to his knees, but ducked under Charlie's kick.

“Stop! Can we _please_ talk about this?” Malfoy darted out of reach, wiping his split lip.

“Oh, I'm all ears,” Charlie hissed sarcastically.

“Somewhere private,” Malfoy pleaded.

“So you can kill me? I'm not an idiot, _ya chatichat_ double-crossing _ben zona_ ,” Charlie snarled, lunging forward. Malfoy scored a knee to Charlie's ribs before getting dragged to the ground. The sun glinted off something metal, catching Charlie's eye. His knife. He snatched it up and cut down at Malfoy.

Pinned on his back by Charlie's weight, Malfoy could barely protect himself. He threw his arm up and the blade thudded into soft tissue, tip protruding clear through. If Malfoy hadn't caught his own arm, he would have gotten the point in his throat. Charlie felt the sickening vibration of the knife slicing flesh, and the sensation chilled the blood in his veins.

Malfoy breathed harshly through the pain, gritting his teeth in a desperate effort not to cry out. “You _swore_ ,” he gasped with difficulty. “You swore you'd never harm me.”

Charlie's body had locked up. His brain was screaming that he had made a terrible mistake. “I _trusted_ you,” he whispered, dazed from the tumultuous emotions grappling for dominance in his chest.

“I trust you,” Malfoy murmured, almost to himself. He closed his eyes, tears sliding down his temples to wet his hair. “I trust you. I trust you,” he chanted under his breath.

The knife shuddered in Charlie's palm. He tried to jerk his hand back but Malfoy snatched it and crushed his fingers around the grip. Charlie met Malfoy's eyes in horror.

“My shoulder or my heart,” Malfoy hissed out, “It's your choice.” Nobody should look that resolute while crying. His eyes were clear through the tears, staring hard into Charlie's.

And then Malfoy stopped resisting.

Not expecting it, Charlie slipped forward- most of his weight had been behind the knife. Instinct took over, and he jerked the knife just in time to keep the tip from plunging into the kid's heart. It sank into Malfoy's shoulder, and the keening cry that escaped ripped through Charlie.

“Sweet Archemedes' feathered tail, kid,” Charlie swore violently. “Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed!?”

“ _Charlie_!”

Charlie whipped his head up as Alon ran at him. “What in god's name are you doing!?” he shouted, dropping to his knees beside Charlie. “What did you do!?” His hands pried Charlie's fingers from the knife grip, and he shoved Charlie hard, pushing him off Malfoy. The next thing Charlie heard was Malfoy's gut-wrenching scream as Alon drew the knife from his arm and chest. Charlie felt sick. He had done that.

“You are such a god-damned barbarian,” Alon grumbled. He flicked a glare at Charlie. “Get over here and help me!” Alon ordered sharply.

Charlie scrambled to his knees and moved next to Alon. The medic was wrapping the arm with the Dark Mark, the one Charlie had pierced through.

“Hold this,” Alon snapped, beckoning to Malfoy's arm. Charlie took the limb carefully as Alon finished winding the bandages. It was a temporary fix, until Alon got him to the hospital tent. “A _knife_!?” Alon burst in exasperation. “What were you _thinking_!?”

“I wasn't,” Charlie murmured wretchedly. “Alon, he's a Death Eater.”

“So you go at him with a knife!?” Alon yelled.

“He could have killed all of us!” Charlie shot back. Alon's face clouded in fury. He dropped the roll of bandages and punched Charlie solidly in the jaw.

Charlie reeled back.

“Are you really that stupid?” Alon roared, cheeks red with anger. “He could have killed you any time he wanted! You were alone with him far more than the rest of us ever were.”

“He _played_ us,” Charlie retorted, rubbing his jaw.

“He saved your life at risk to his own,” Alon growled back. “That is above and beyond his call of duty. And look at what you did to him.” Charlie couldn't. Alon grabbed his jaw and forced his head down. Malfoy had thankfully passed out. The shoulder wound Charlie had driven the knife into was oozing slowly onto the dirt beneath him. His throat was a solid patchwork of blue, purple, and red. A small dribble of blood ran from the corner of his mouth and stained his hair. His breathing was shallow and pained, and his skin dreadfully pale.

Charlie swallowed hard as his stomach tried to leap into his throat.

Alon released his jaw in disgust and turned back to Malfoy. He sealed the bloodied wounds well enough for transport, and lifted the kid into his arms. “Miranda wants you,” Alon said as he stood. “Do not come near my tent until I send for you, or I will kill you,” he swore. Charlie nodded. Alon carefully picked his way towards the hospital tent, and Charlie started in the other direction to see Miranda at the office.

He pushed through the flaps to her official tent, and got half a heart attack at who he saw sitting beside her. Albus Dumbledore himself was perched cross-legged on Miranda's desk, looking rather solemn. “Hello Charles,” he said.


	8. Chapter 8

“Hello professor,” Charlie said, his mouth dry. Miranda looked ashen where she stood. Charlie glanced down and saw he was covered in blood. “He's not dead,” Charlie said quickly. “He's with Alon.”

“It appears I've gotten here too late,” Dumbledore said quietly. “I apologize. I wanted to send ahead but I could not risk a missive being intercepted. The mission could not wait, not with the Riders meeting so soon. It was necessary.”

Charlie felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. This man was a caretaker of _children_.

“The Malfoy child has been under my orders,” Dumbledore said gently, as if trying to soften the blow. “He is a double agent, but he is on our side. I ask for your cooperation in his future missions. And I ask that you refrain from questioning his purposes for using the dragons. Some of his missions are more... taxing than others.”

“More _taxing_ ,” Charlie breathed out past the dead weight squeezing his chest. “More taxing than murdering _children_?”

“That was a terribly unfortunate situation,” Dumbledore said softly. “We tried to get the children out, but it was not to be. Young Malfoy had to prove himself to the Dark Lord so that he could take the Mark and watch the inner circle for us, and to do so, he had to perform terrible actions. Terrible but necessary. We need someone on the inside.”

“He's a _child_ ,” Charlie whispered. Dumbledore stared at him unblinkingly.

“He is eighteen, Mr Weasley, and quite capable of making his own decisions, as I'm sure you've found out in your time with him.” Dumbledore paused to let his words sink in. “Can I count on your cooperation?”

“Absolutely,” Miranda said swiftly, her voice low.

“How do you know he's on your side?” Charlie said.

“I have complete faith in Young Mr Malfoy's abilities, and where he stands on this battle,” Dumbledore said, which wasn't really saying anything at all. “You should ask him yourself.” Dumbledore stood and moved to the centre of the tent. “If you'll excuse me. I apologize for the trouble I've caused with my lack of communication. It will not be a problem in the future.” And with that he disappeared, leaving Charlie feeling as if the ground was collapsing out from under him.

“What did you do to him?” Miranda gawked at him. Charlie stared at her listlessly.

“Stabbed him. Twice.”

“Good god,” Miranda hissed. “Go to Alon. See if you can help.”

“Alon will kill me if I set foot near his tent.” Charlie was having a hard time breathing past the tightness in his chest. He couldn't believe what he had almost done.

“Then go get cleaned up. Quickly.” Miranda ushered him out of her tent and into the midday sun.

It was two agonizing hours later, when Charlie was sitting on his cot, cleaned and shaking with anxiety, when Alon finally stuck his head between the flaps to the door of his tent. “He's asking for you.”

Charlie followed Alon into the hospital tent, and approached the cot where Alon had laid the kid. He knelt down beside the cot and rested an arm on it, well aware of Alon hovering behind him. Malfoy's skin was still very pale, and his forearm was a swathe of bandages, but his lip was healed, as was his eye, and he was breathing easy.

Charlie cleared his throat. “Dumbledore came,” he said finally. “He explained everything.”

“About damn time,” Malfoy groaned. “Are you going to stop trying to kill me now?” The words were light, but the shake in Malfoy's voice was enough to crush Charlie's heart.

“I'm sorry,” Charlie whispered. Malfoy glared at him.

“You stabbed me,” Malfoy said succinctly. He held up his bandaged arm. “How am I going to explain this? Alon says it's going to scar. The cuts go right through the Mark. It's like you were trying to cut away his hold on me.” His voice broke as he spoke the last part. Charlie took the bandaged arm and held it in both hands, and pressed a very soft kiss to the palm. Malfoy turned his hand to cup Charlie's jaw, holding his face gently.

“What did Dumbledore tell you to do?” Charlie asked softly. Malfoy winced and sighed in irritation.

“It's all right,” Malfoy said over Charlie's head. Charlie turned to see Alon nod. “He couldn't kill me if he tried, as he proved so efficiently today.” Alon nodded swiftly.

“I'll be within earshot if you need me,” Alon said, giving Charlie a vicious glare. Charlie figured he deserved it. Alon left the tent, and Charlie turned back to Malfoy.

“My mission was to infiltrate the Riders and, if I couldn't convince them not to take the Dark Lord's contract, scatter them. If they weren't following one person they'd either not join a side or you'd get a few on either side. But the Dark Lord wouldn't have a stacked deck,” Malfoy said without preamble.

“And I messed up your plan?”

“No, actually.”

Charlie frowned. “You said Shin Li tried to kill me. I assume it was because I brought you to the --”

“That was a lie,” Malfoy cut in sharply. “He was aiming for me, and you were caught in the crossfire.”

Charlie felt shock settle into his chest. “Are you telling me you took that hit for me... willingly?”

Malfoy shifted uncomfortably. “When you put it that way...”

“You put my life ahead of yours. How else do you want me to put it?”

“You're my dragon hand,” Malfoy said swiftly. Charlie smirked. “It's _so_ hard to find good help these days.”

“Something tells me you're lying to me,” Charlie said lightly with a grin.

“Why would I _ever_ lie to you, oh firmly muscled fantasy of mine?” Malfoy drawled.

“Fantasy, eh? I could get used to that,” Charlie chuckled.

“Don't,” Malfoy said quickly with a stern look.

“Malfoy.” Charlie almost regretted changing the subject, but he had to know. “Tell me what happened in Wales.”

Malfoy's face immediately slammed shut, all emotion tucked away. “No.”

“Malfoy, there was an orphanage full of _children_ in the path of that fire,” Charlie said quietly. Malfoy scowled.

“Thanks for reminding me. I had forgotten,” he drawled.

“What happened?” Charlie asked.

“I don't have to explain myself to you,” Malfoy snapped. He struggled to sit up, but Charlie pushed him back down with a gentle hand at his chest.

“ _Please_. Don't give Alon another reason to kill me,” he begged. Malfoy settled back against his pillow. Charlie relaxed slightly. Small victories.

“Look, Dumbledore _promised_ he'd get those kids out,” Malfoy bit out, face pale with splotches of red colouring his cheeks. “He _swore_ he'd protect them,” Malfoy spat.

“Malfoy, it wasn't your fault,” Charlie whispered. Malfoy stared at him as if he had grown two heads.

“I lit the entire city on fire,” Malfoy said slowly.

“If Dumbledore told you he would protect them, their blood is on his hands,” Charlie said firmly.

“If he wasn't so goddamn focused on Harry fucking Potter he may have a chance at winning this thing,” Malfoy continued harshly. “He pins all his hopes on some Golden Boy who can't even tie his own laces and ignores that he has a battle open on six different fronts! Do you know why he wasn't there that day?”

“Why?” Charlie asked softly, keeping his horror carefully maintained.

“He was having tea with Potter,” Malfoy growled. “ _Tea_. He let me murder _children_ for a spot of Earl Grey.” The violence in his voice chilled Charlie. He reached out to take Malfoy's hand but the kid jerked away. “Don't touch me,” he snarled. Malfoy was trembling. “I _hate_ them both.”

“Then why are you here?” Charlie asked softly.

“Dumbledore promised to get my parents away from You Know Who,” Malfoy whispered harshly. “And now that I know his record on keeping his promises I'm never going to see them again.”

“That's not true,” Charlie said gently. “He'll protect them, Malfoy--”

“Just like he protected those children?” Malfoy spat. “Why would he risk resources protecting evil adults who have made their choices when he won't even protect innocents?”

“Malfoy, they're obviously important to you, and you're helping in the war effort,” Charlie said, trying to reason with him even though he knew Malfoy was probably right. Angry tears rolled down Malfoy's cheeks, and Charlie had to swallow back his own fury at the kid's situation. Dumbledore was abusing Malfoy's position, pure and simple. There was no other way around it. Eighteen or no, Malfoy was still a kid and Dumbledore should know better than to make promises he wouldn't be able to keep.

“That's the only reason I lost control that first time,” Malfoy growled. “I realised Dumbledore wouldn't help someone like me. Not when he has someone like Potter to coddle.”

“I'll help you,” Charlie said before he could stop himself. Malfoy blinked at him, startled silent. “I'll help you get your parents away from the Dark Lord. You can't go back to him.”

“I know that,” Malfoy hissed furiously. “Don't make promises you can't keep either, you red-headed baboon.”

“He'll kill them when he's finished with them,” Charlie said urgently, ignoring the jab. “Stay with us. Please, Malfoy.”

“I will remain on the side that will give me my parents alive at the end of this fucking war,” Malfoy snapped. “Nobody, not you, not Dumbledore, not the Dark Lord, will have a say in that decision.”

“Dumbledore can protect them,” Charlie said sharply. “At least he won't kill them after the war.”

“No, he'll just throw them in Azkaban for all eternity,” Malfoy shot back. “Not quite sure which is worse.”

“They'd be granted leniency. Dumbledore would speak on their behalf.”

“And who would speak on my behalf? After all the crimes I've committed under the Dark Lord's orders? Not even Dumbledore admits that those kids were his fault.”

“I would,” Charlie snapped, letting his anger take hold for a brief moment. He clamped his mouth shut and inhaled slowly. “I would.”

“Stop, just stop,” Malfoy groaned, closing his eyes.

“I'm sorry,” Charlie whispered again. “I'm sorry I didn't believe you.”

“Yes, well. I suppose I have to forgive you because you're my stable boy. I can't be angry with you forever. Elhaearn wouldn't like that. Though it will take quite a while for me to get over your name calling. Do you have any idea how long I spent throwing up after I had to start that fire?” Malfoy said nonchalantly. Charlie couldn't hear it. He reached out and placed his hand against Malfoy's hair. “Quite a while, actually,” Malfoy continued as Charlie lifted himself and drew his lips towards the kid's. He pressed his mouth to Malfoy's still-talking one and quieted him.

Charlie drew back slightly. His eyes met Malfoy's curious ones. “I will be by your side,” he said quietly. “I will help you through this.”

“That's very kind of you,” Malfoy drawled in a low voice. “But I doubt the Dark Lord would welcome your red hair.”

Charlie placed both hands around Malfoy's head, holding him in place. He held Malfoy's gaze firmly. “I will heal your wounds, and care for your dragon, and I will hold your hair while you vomit-”

“How romantic,” Malfoy cut in.

“-and give you a safe place to fall. And he won't touch you. He'll never be able to touch you.”

“Good god, sir, are you proposing to me?” Malfoy grimaced under his touch. “I don't even know you.”

“I'm apologizing for not believing you and not trusting you,” Charlie said solidly.

“I don't need you to be fawning all over me and-” Malfoy started indignantly. Charlie kissed him again, and as he drew back for leverage, Malfoy breathlessly uttered, “Okay. Okay,” before pulling him back in for a searing kiss which Charlie graciously entered. Malfoy's hand scrabbled down Charlie's back, reaching for his belt and pulling him up onto the cot.

Charlie glanced over his shoulder to find Alon's shadow gone from outside the tent, and then focused on Malfoy under him, and Malfoy's hands. He let his shirt be yanked off and dumped on the floor. The bandages around Malfoy's palm scraped against his skin, sending shivers ricocheting up and down his spine. Malfoy's knees came up around him, and his fingers fiddled with the laces on Charlie's trousers.

“I'm never going to have two handed sex,” Malfoy lamented against Charlie's skin. Charlie laughed and pressed his face to Malfoy's shoulder, reaching between them to help get his trousers off. He kicked them onto the floor and pulled Malfoy's knees up further, lifting his hips. He wriggled Malfoy's trousers down far enough to reach his hand around Malfoy's bum and massaged skin there.

The kid, bless his heart, actually yelped.

“What are you doing?” he gasped, lifting his head, eyes wide. Charlie cocked an evil grin. Malfoy's good hand shot out and he grabbed Charlie's shoulder, gripping hard as Charlie pressed a finger into Malfoy. The kid grunted and dropped back onto the cot. Charlie soothed his lips over Malfoy's throat and shoulder.

“You've never done this?” Charlie asked softly.

“No,” Malfoy groaned back. “In fact, last night-”

“Was your first,” Charlie finished for him. Malfoy nodded, hair tickling Charlie's skin.

“That obvious?”

“You did fine.”

“Fine is not 'awesome'.”

Charlie shut him up by closing his mouth over Malfoy's, swallowing any other comments. Malfoy leaned into the kiss, rolling Charlie onto his side. Charlie hugged the kid close and pressed another finger into him. Malfoy arched against him. “All right?” Charlie asked softly.

“Don't stop,” Malfoy breathed hot against his skin, throwing his arms around Charlie's shoulders.

“Gotta get these off you first,” Charlie grumbled, pulling at Malfoy's trousers. Malfoy kicked, trying to shimmy out of the cloth. Together, they managed to toss the trousers over the edge of the cot. “Better,” Charlie growled, pleased. He knocked Malfoy's legs aside and shifted between them again, drawing hot skin against hotter skin. Malfoy's breath quickened as their pricks rubbed together. “Easy,” Charlie murmured, drawing a hand down Malfoy's back. He let his fingers drift over Malfoy's arse, and pressed his hand to the cleft in the cheeks.

Malfoy pressed back into his hand, eager for the contact. Charlie slipped two fingers in him again, and Malfoy bit down gently on his shoulder. Charlie rolled them over as he teased a third finger into Malfoy. He paused on his knees, waiting for the expression of discomfort to fade. He wrapped one hand around Malfoy's prick and gave a light twist along the draw.

“Want to try this?” Charlie asked, heart pounding. Malfoy rolled his eyes to look at him under a fringe of blonde hair.

“Yes,” he said swiftly. Charlie removed his fingers and hiked Malfoy's legs up, pushing the kid's knees towards his shoulders. With his wand, he cast a lubrication spell, and slicked himself so that he wouldn't hurt the kid. He lined himself up at Malfoy's entrance and pushed in slowly, taking note of Malfoy's expressions as he went. “All right?”

“Yea, yea,” Malfoy gasped, gripping Charlie close. Charlie carefully lifted his hips, and pressed in again. It was easier this time, and Malfoy didn't wince or scrunch up his face. Charlie started a careful rhythm, in and out, one that Malfoy matched his hips to eagerly.

Charlie dug his fingers into Malfoy's arse as he came. Malfoy's fingers pressed hard into his shoulder blades, one hand sliding up to twist in Charlie's hair. Charlie pumped Malfoy, and the kid came, sinking his teeth into Charlie's shoulder. “Ah, shit, kid,” Charlie winced, drawing back. Malfoy's eyes were heavy-lidded and dark. He eyed the mark he had made, and pulled Charlie's shoulder close to gently lathe his tongue over the teeth marks. A shiver crept down Charlie's spine at the touch.

He drew his fingers through Malfoy's hair as the kid pulled back and dropped against the cot. Charlie leaned over him, catching his breath back and just watching. He lifted the kid's hips and carefully slipped out with a rather gross slide that made Malfoy's face pinch in disgust.

“How dreadfully plebeian,” Malfoy grumbled. Charlie pressed his weight down, laying on Malfoy's chest. Malfoy harrumphed indignantly. The sweat cooling on their bodies started to chill, and Charlie drew the cot blanket up over them both.

“Malfoy.” Charlie propped himself up on one elbow. Malfoy shifted comfortably under Charlie's body and blinked up expectantly at him. “What is your first name?”

To his surprise, Malfoy flushed right down to his throat. “It's not important,” he said quickly, dropping his gaze.

Charlie hadn't expected that answer. “Uh... Am I supposed to just keep calling you Malfoy?” he asked awkwardly.

“It's so ironic that I can't even think about it without going into fits of hysterical laughter,” Malfoy groaned, shifting his legs impatiently. Charlie waited. Malfoy cast him a narrowed gaze. “It's Draco.”

Draco.

... _Draco_?

“You're kidding,” Charlie blurted incredulously. Malfoy shook his head, looking a bit green. “Draco as in... the dragon?” Charlie's voice cracked hysterically. He couldn't stop the ridiculous grin spreading over his face.

“Oh god. Don't _even_ start. If you start, then there'll be no end from everyone else who ever hears of this,” Malfoy groaned, pushing his hips up against Charlie's in irritation. Charlie pushed back, irrationally elated. The chuckle started as a small bubble in his chest, grew, and suddenly he was laughing out loud, shaking the entire cot with the force of it.

Malfoy glared at first, but Charlie's laugh was infectious. He finally cracked a grin at the utter ridiculousness of their situation, and started laughing. Charlie nuzzled Malfoy's jaw, still laughing, and knew he would never let this kid go.

THE END


End file.
